


A Soldier Dead. A Stranger Born

by theangelanddean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PTSD, Post Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelanddean/pseuds/theangelanddean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is dealing with his amnesia when he meets the man from his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soldier Dead. A Stranger Born

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my own Dean

May 19, 1975

I don't remember anything. They say my name is Jimmy Novak; I say my name is Castiel. I don't remember anything. All I remember is a man. A man – whose name escapes me. This man, he has candy-apple green eyes, freckles spread out over his slightly crooked nose and his light pink cheeks, a rugged jaw, and a pearly-white smile that lit up his eyes with hope and love. I can still hear his honey-like laughter. Even worse, I remember his touch. The way his warm hands cupped my face, the taste of cranberry pie on his lips, and the way he calls me "Castiel". He is a man who creates an uneasy feeling in my stomach but I like it. He is a man who may not be even real. No one believes me; people think I am a nut-job. My psychologist says I am going through a type of amnesia, which is followed by traumatic events. He tries to make me remember it. He wants me to remember a war in a place called Vietnam. The military put me in a hospital for the crazies like me. They call this a hospital; it's more like a confinement. There is nothing wrong with me. I am not frantic. I want to leave. I need to get out of here. I want to find the man who I dreamt of.

May 21, 1975

Someone died and I am a murderer. I cannot explain how but I know I killed him. It was early this morning, I was reading about the war in Vietnam when I had heard the door open and Gary, the nurse, enter my tiny space of living. "Good Morning Mr. Novak," were his last words. He knew I despised that name. Yet he called me Jimmy Novak. I had acted out physically on him. Knocked his tray over, yelled at him to call me Castiel. Even after my inappropriate behavior towards him, He just smiled, like he was used to this, and picked up the medicine off the floor and tried to force them in my mouth. I am not ill. I don't need medications. I refused. I resisted. That wasn't even the worst of it. Like an instinct of self-defense, my palm had met Gary's forehead and he lit up like a Christmas tree. A few seconds later, he fell to the ground. There were pools of blood in place of Gary's eyes. I killed the man and he probably had someone – he probably had a family unlike me.

What is wrong with me?

The doctors said Gary died from a major stroke. I told my psychologist what actually happened but he gave me more medications for my "hallucinations". That was not a figment of my imagination. I murdered someone and no one believes me…

June 2, 1975

They are going to set me free. I don't need to stay in this goddamn awful "jailhouse" anymore. The psychologists say I am doing better even if they are only letting me go because they believe I am lucid. Yes, I lied. I told them I am Jimmy Novak but it was the only way I could leave and they bought it. I am going to be free even if the method was improper.

The plan they have set out for me is an integration program. The psychologists and the military have worked together in making a program where they will take two severe war casualty cases and team them up. Psychologists think that this will help with emotional healing. I think this is all bullshit, but I agreed to it so I can leave this place. Whoever my partner is, he better leave me alone.

June 10, 1975

Yesterday was the day I got to meet the soldier I was matched up for the integration program. The guards had pushed me in to a room with one table in the middle and two chairs on either side. Warm and comfy, just what we needed – an interrogation room. Then they leave me alone in that small dark room like it was no problem. I am a nut-job, who cares about me. After an eternity in hell, more like five minutes tops, there was some kind of commotion outside the door. The other soldier was resisting; not bad for a first impression. Eventually the guards won the battle and the soldier was pushed inside and was trapped with me. It was total silence. I fiddled with my hands not daring to look up at him. But the funny thing is, I had felt a tingling in my hands and my heart started to race. The first sound that broke the silence was, "Cas?" Thinking I had heard the voice of that man in my head again, I did not react. Suddenly, the soldier gripped my shoulders firmly and aggressively forced me up onto my feet. Ready to yell at him I open my mouth but no sound came out. His face, it had the same rugged structure, the same green eyes and the same freckles of the man who kept appearing in my dreams. I did not know what to do or say. I stood there as he crushed me with his arms wrapped around me. I felt his lips trail from the bottom of my neck to my jaw placing light kisses on the way. I was frozen. It was him; the man from my dreams.

After a few moments, he had finally let me go. His eyes were soft and filled with love. My body wanted to feel the same way but my brain said to push him away. Eventually the soldier's affectionate expression faded away. The next words that came out of his mouth ripped me in half. My head had started to spin and someone inside of me was scratching against my skin trying to get out. He had said, "You don't remember me do you? I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. The man you love. Damn it, Cas. We met in the war. Please remember for me. I need you to remember. I need you."

But I don't remember. Dean, I want to remember. I want to remember you and I want to remember our love. Please help me. I want to remember.

June 15, 1975

Today is the day I get to move in with Dean Winchester. We have had a few days to decide if we were good candidates to be integrated with. We really had no choice but the high officers and psychologists agreed that we could work together. They said that Dean was my group's leader in Vietnam. Of course, I don't remember.

What if I never remember him? How long will we have together? Why can't I remember him? So many questions – no one has the answers.

June 16, 1975

Last night, I moved in a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with Dean Winchester. It was silent when I moved in. He just watched me as I moved in my tiny amount of personal items. He followed my every move but eventually walked into the bedroom with an angry expression. I had felt like I did something. When I was done exploring our small apartment I went into the bedroom where he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. It tugged my heart. I was torturing him. I didn't remember him. I don't want to hurt him anymore so all I did was sit on my bed and kept reading my copy of Watership Down by Richard Adams.

And hour or so later, there was a thundering sound coming from Dean's side of the room. Dean was making this strange sound from his nose and his eyes were closed. I thought he was dying, so the only possible decision I could make was to pour cold water over his head. He had sprung up out of the bed, with water dripping down his hair and a few caressing his skin at the base of his collarbones. Honestly, I was not expecting the reaction he gave me. His eyes had turned a bit darker and he yelled, "What the fuck?! Cas!"

Dean's reaction was loud and intimidating but, surprisingly, I still had a voice to say, "You were dying," in the quietest way possible. I was expecting gratification but instead Dean laughed. It was the very same laughter; the deep honey laugh I had kept on hearing in my head for the last month. I stared and I smiled. It was nice watching him laugh. It felt like an eternity since I have heard him laugh, even though I had met him a few days ago. Eventually, I realized that he was laughing at me. I was more than confused. I save his life, and he laughs?

But Dean was not dying. He was "sleeping". I don't "sleep" because according to him, I am not human. Is he joking? After his laughter died down, he kicked me out of the room to the couch so he can sleep on my bed. But he had a lingering smile on his lips while he climbs into my bed.

"I am not human." He isn't human...Assbutt. But what if he is telling the truth and not being sarcastic? I did kill someone with the touch of my hand...

June 20, 1975

Dean will not talk to me. He won't answer my questions about myself. And these are important questions: how am I not human, how long have we known each other, do I have a family, who am I, what am I? Every time I try to ask a question, he ignores it but I can hear his quiet whisper, "Please...stop." I realize I am hurting him but I need to know about myself. On top of his dismissal towards me, he doesn't go outside. All he does is sit on the couch and drink alcohol. He would pass out after a few bottles, yet I get a little fuzzy after I drink the amount he drinks. I don't understand. I don't even have the courage to snatch that bottle out of his hands and pull him out of the apartment.

The reason I agreed to be in this integration program is to go outside, to get out of a confined room. I want to breathe the fresh air, I want to see the woods and the beach. I had read about bees in a book I read when I was in the "asylum". They are so fascinating. Who knew that honey was bee poop. I don't poop but bees poop. I really want to go outside and see the bees, only if Dean got off that goddamn couch. Maybe if I empty the liquor cabinet, then he'll leave the apartment.

June 22, 1975

I flushed all the alcohol down the toilet when Dean was sleeping. He was angry but I really wanted to go outside. So his anger went in vain when I ignored his constant threats and forced him out of the apartment. I didn't get to see the bees but it was more entertaining to see Dean pout and repetitively ask if we could go back. Eventually, Dean accepted his fate and suggested some places to go. He used to live around here with his brother, Sam. Sam is now at Stanford University studying to become a lawyer. I have no clue what a lawyer is but it sounds like it is an important job. It was clear that Dean is proud of his little brother, his eyes lit up when he talked about him. But then he went back into silence after he said that I already knew about Sam and I knew what a lawyer did. I still don't remember but I wanted to get that off of Dean's mind. Today, I wanted to make him happy.

There was a diner off the main road called Ellen & Jo's Diner and Bar. It's a small joint; the pamphlet I got from city hall said this diner has the best milkshakes and burgers. Somehow I know Dean likes burgers. It took me awhile to convince him to go there. Ellen and Jo, the owners of the diner, were related to Dean. Dean had not told them that he was back from the war. It was quite a shock to them when we entered the joint but they wholeheartedly accepted us. When Dean introduced me, Jo dragged me to a booth and started to interrogate me. It took her awhile realize I didn't have the answers to any of her questions. Surprisingly, she did not look at me with pity instead she gave me a bright smile and told me not to worry. She said that I will have my memories back quickly. Jo was very reassuring, I am glad to know her and I am glad that she has confidence in me. She talked about how Dean would write about me in his letters and how Dean, in her exact words, "is completely smitten by me".

Ellen, on the other hand, is completely different. She made me feel safe, like she had accepted my so-called illness and me. She let Jo and Dean catch up in the kitchen while she told me Dean's story. When Dean was four years old, his mother had died in a house fire and his father had become a drunk. His uncle, Bobby, took Dean and Sam in and became their second father. Ellen, who married Bobby a few years after the incident with the fire, becomes their second mother and Jo became their little sister. It was a perfect little family, a family I wished to have. It was devastating when Dean was drafted into the war but Ellen thinks it has been for the best. Dean felt happy and content around me. I need to remember everything for Dean to be happy again.

Bobby came in after the diner closed. He, unlike Ellen and Jo, was not as accepting towards me. There was worry in his eyes for Dean. Though Bobby was a bit dismissive towards me, I could see the great bond between him and Dean. They were the ideal father-son pair. After a couple drinks, Dean said it was time to go back. Before we left, I heard Bobby mumble, "The angel and the idjit who fell in love with him- what could go wrong?"

June 25, 1975

I was cleaning the kitchen yesterday when I heard screaming from our bedroom. Dean was sitting upright on the bed with a strange, silver dagger in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathe was uneven; it was like he had seen a ghost. Like an instinct I had climbed into the bed behind him and wrapped my hands around his waist in the efforts of comforting him. After a few seconds, he had dropped the dagger and leaned into me. I placed my head in the crook of his neck while he practiced breathing evenly. Time had stopped for us. We stayed in that position for a long time. There was peace and I had forgotten all the commotion of my life. Our heartbeats came into sync as goose bumps spread all over our arms. It was serenity.

"Adam. We need to save Adam. Cas… please. We need to save Adam." Dean would not stop mumbling. All I could do was rub his back to calm him down. Once Dean fell asleep in my arms, I had tried to leave but he wouldn't let me go. His legs and arms were wrapped around me; I fit right into him, like I was a missing part to complete a puzzle. I was laying on the bed with Dean, listening to how his heart was beating, when I realized that I remember someone named Adam. Someone, someone powerful, took him. I had to protect Adam but I failed. Who was he? All I remember is Adam's screams and a bright light. I couldn't get the screams out of my head; I had to focus on Dean's heartbeats to get them out. What had happened in Vietnam? I need answers. But right now I need Dean.

June 26, 1975

I had another flashback when I was in the shower. It was about Adam and the war. It started out with me lying on the dark, humid forest ground. Dean was sleeping right next to me, one hand on the trigger of his gun and the other in my hand. There were buzzing sounds everywhere. It was the only noise in the vast forest. I had a beard grown and wet dirt all over my green and blue uniform. A mosquito had landed on my nose; we stared at each other until he succumbed into my power and flew away without trying to take my blood as a meal. The sun starts to rise as Dean gains consciousness.

His eyes open to meet mine and a smile sneaks on to his lips as he croaks out, "Morning, Cas."

I smile back at him, my free hand reaches to caress his cheek. It was rough yet soft, it was dirty yet pure. He lets go of the gun and scoots closer to me. His recently free hand is placed on the back of my head as his dry lips touch mine. I let go of his hand and reach around his waist and force him into me until there is no space for air between us.

"Oi, you lovebirds might want to break that up before anyone wakes." A young voice called from a few feet away. I broke the kiss and looked towards a young boy; crew-cut blonde hair, light blue eyes, and a hint of humor in his expression. I looked at him in confusion.

"Shut up, Adam." Dean said just before sneaking in a kiss on my neck. He stood up, carrying the gun with him, looks at the perimeter and then back at the rest of the unit. After a few minutes of surveying, Dean starts to walk around. "Boys, time to wake up. We have a long day ahead of us. You have 5 minutes to get ready or I will leave you in this goddamn shitty jungle." Dean commands while kicking some soldiers awake. Everyone started complaining under their breath but started getting up. I walked towards Dean who was packing his things.

"Dean." I whisper to get his attention.

"Yes, soldier?" He said, while still looking at his bag but with a smirk.

"I don't understand. We are not birds. Why did Adam call us lovebirds? I have wings but that doesn't mean I'm a bird. I am an angel." I said with great confusion. Dean started a roaring laughter that got the attention of all the soldiers. He waved the soldiers off, telling them to focus on their work. "Dean, this isn't funny."

Dean calmed his laughter down and grabbed my shoulder. "Never change, Cas. Never change." I squint at him and was still lost. "A lovebird is a person in love with each other. And I love you. Remember that, I love you and I am never letting you go."

As I was about to say something to Dean, everything went blank. All I could smell smoke and ash; I was submerged in total darkness. "Dean!" I called out. "Dean, can you hear me?"

"Cas! I need help. It's Adam! He's hurt!" I hear him shout from my left side. I ran to him as fast as I could but I didn't get there in time. A bright light appeared blinding me line of sight. There was a screeching sound that said Adam; this is the last time I am warning you. You are my vessel, either you say yes or I destroy this entire nation. It was Michael, my older brother and an archangel. I take out a silver dagger and throw it towards the light but miss. Michael looks at me and places a finger on my head. Then everything went blank, and the last thing I remember hearing, "Cas. Cas... Please wake up. I need you, Cas. We need to save Adam... Castiel."

I opened my eyes to see I was back in the shower.

June 27, 1975

I talked to Dean about my vision. He said its true. Adam had agreed to Michael's proposition and let us all go. I was sent by God himself to protect him and I failed. I am a failure.

July 4, 1975

It's been days since my last flashback. I couldn't do anything. I felt like a failed on a life. It's my entire fault. Everything I do, I fail at it. Dean tried to make me feel better but how can I if I let a child under my care slip through my fingers. Today, though I did not want to leave and "celebrate" whatever Dean wanted to celebrate he forced me out just like I had a week or two ago. I didn't want to go but I had to do it for Dean.

We went to Bobby's for what Dean called the 4th of July - Independence Day for The United States. I don't understand freedom. How can one just be free from someone? No one really is free... Yet I put on a fake smile and join Bobby and the others with a beer. Dean's brother, Sam, came over with his girlfriend, Jess. They were great. Sam is going to turn out to be a great man. After the fireworks, which led me to believe that everything was going to better, Sam proposed to Jess. I haven't seen Dean happier. I am glad that this trip let him have some joy.

July 5, 1975

I... This morning, Dean woke up with a smile. But my gloominess ruined everything. He'd try to play some Elvis on the record and get me to have fun. But I don't want to. I need to punish myself for failing. Dean, who was worried on what happened to me, kept pestering me. I yelled at him. I screamed and fought; I told him that everything is my fault. In response, all he did was grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to his side of the room. He took out a small book, and inside was a medal of bravery. It was Adams. After I had passed out during the war, Adam had sacrificed himself for everybody. He grabbed the Blade I had thrown and let Michael use him as a vessel but had killed himself with the knife as soon as Michael entered him. He killed Michael. He sacrificed himself for us.

Dean, thank you. Thank you for assuring me. Thank you. I was not sure or I did not understand if I loved you or not. But now, I do. I love you. I will tell you one day. One day I will remember the day we met, our first kiss, and all our firsts. I love you.

July 9, 1975

It was our first meeting with the psychologists. They wanted to know how we were doing. In reality, I am not doing so well. Dean just said, "Just lie. When humans are put into a difficult situation, they lie and everybody buys into that. It's a gift." I did not like the idea, but it was the only way I got to stay with Dean. Everything went smoothly, until they asked me about Adam. It hurt to talk about him. They could see I blamed myself for his death. I don't want them to ask me any more questions. I just want to stay with Dean.

Dean could finally get his car back. His psychologists say he is progressively getting better. The ride back to the apartment was quite. Dean's eyebrows were scrunched up as if he was deeply thinking about something. A block away from the apartment, the Impala screeched to a stop. Dean grinds his teeth and his hands were holding the wheel so hard that I could see the whites of his knuckles.

"Dean?" I say with my voice filled with concern. I didn't get a reply. He just stared straight ahead. I reach to place my hand on his shoulder; just at that moment Dean shifts gears and speeds up to the apartment. After parking in a parking spot, he quickly leaves the car and runs up to the apartment, leaving me behind. I did not know what to do but I did need to talk to him. I take the key from the driver seat where he left them and lock the car up and cautiously enter the apartment where I saw Dean opening a new bottle of Heineken ignoring my presence. Feeling a sudden rush of anger, I grab the bottle from his hand and throw it on the floor. "Why are you mad at me? I did nothing! I don't even remember my own damn life!" I screeched at the top of my lungs.

Dean was left speechless. He stared into my eyes with an overwhelming intensity. I could see his pupils dilate and the green of his eyes to turn darker. His welcoming lips parted and I could feel my tongue shift over my lips. I walk closer to the point where our noses could be touching. "What's wrong, Dean?" I whisper with a heavy breath. "What did I do?"

Dean's hand reaches up and cups my right cheek. "I miss you." His voiced cracked and a single tear glides down his cheek. "I miss you, Cas. I don't know how long I can keep pretending that I can deal with your amnesia. You don't remember. Every morning you would wake me up before the other soldiers with a kiss. The first time we met I stabbed you and made a goddamn dick joke. Our first kiss was 4 months after the day we met. We were in a river and you planted one right on me. I fell in love with you when you gave up on heaven and followed me instead. Cas, I love you and you don't remember that you love me." He said between sobs. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled in with our foreheads touching. "I need you to love me."

I froze. I do love him. I don't need to remember to love him. He doesn't care that I don't remember he wants me to love him. In response to his speech, I grabbed his cheeks and 'planted one on him'. Dean took a while to react to the kiss. He released a sigh of relief and relaxed his body, wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me into him.

Now I sit here on the couch with Dean's head on my lap sleeping soundly and I feel complete.

39 Years Later

May 15, 2014

It's been years since I have written. I did not need to write. Dean was there to talk to, until right now. Tonight, I get to pull the plug in Dean's ventilator. All these years with him, yet he never stopped loving me and I never stopped loving him. Twenty years ago, an angel named Anna came and met me. She gave me my memories back. The war in heaven was subsided and she wanted me to come back. There was no way I would ever leave Dean. Not ever and now Dean is leaving me to go to heaven. I hold Dean's wrinkly hand in my immortal one, as I beg him to come back. If only I could break my promise to Anna, the promise of never healing Dean. I don't know how I can do this. Dean. Please, I need you.

May 16, 2014

He is gone. What now?

May 17, 2014

He was cremated. Sam, Jess, their daughter, our son, Jo, and other friends and family came over to ease my pain. I appreciate their efforts but there is no way I will ever feel better. I gave up on heaven just to let him go to heaven. I can't even go to heaven anymore. Anna wouldn't allow it. Dean, I miss you.

May 18, 2014

Dean. I need you.

May 19, 2014

I met another angel, and he gave me the greatest news since my son, Ben, got into Harvard University. His name was Gabriel; it has been a long time since I have seen him. He was the only brother who understood me and understood the human race. He came to tell me how Dean was doing. Dean, though he was in heaven, was miserable without me. No matter what the angels would do to make him stop trying to get out of heaven, he wouldn't stop. Dean was creating serious problems by going into other people's heavens and attacking angels. Things got so far that archangels had to intervene. Gabriel gave me a proposition of living in Dean's heaven. I don't have to go anywhere or do anything. I can be with Dean, forever and there is nothing better than that. Ben gave me permission and let me go.

Humanity is something I have gotten used to. And Dean is my humanity. There is no way I will ever leave him. I love him and I will love him for the rest of my life.


End file.
